


Hurricane

by AngelicaElizaAndPeggy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, It's a political drama, Some fluff? Maybe? If you look really hard for it, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:34:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicaElizaAndPeggy/pseuds/AngelicaElizaAndPeggy
Summary: "Money is not power. Never has been. True, it helps people get there, but real power is the monuments built to your name, not the paper in your wallet. Real power is how many people write about you, how many would jump in front of a bullet for you, how many would cry at your goddamn funeral, how many would toil endlessly just for you and you alone. Not all powerful people are rich, not all rich people are powerful. Money is sand, it runs through your fingers and leaves you standing there with nothing. Power cannot be tangible and if it ever becomes so, it will lose its own sense of definition."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be entirely honest when I say that I was unsure about creating this fic. I found it to be difficult, at first, because these characters were real people in history. A great many of these men and women were morally ambiguous. To separate reality from the fiction I am writing was a challenge for me initally. Then a friend of mine told me that writing about these characters is not condoning their actions of the past.  
> So I may be writing them but that does not mean I agree with the things they have done. But I am taking them and creating them into my own work of fiction, a strong divide between what they were really like vs what I am writing them to be. These complicated characters are a treat to write and turn into this political drama.  
> Enough of me monologuing! Happy reading and best wishes to you all! Xx

_"Money is not power. Never has been. True, it helps people get there, but real power is the monuments built to your name,not the paper in your wallet. Real power is how many people write about you, how many would jump in front of a bullet for you, how many would cry at your goddamn funeral, how many would toil endlessly just for you and you alone. Not all powerful people are rich, not all rich people are powerful. Money is sand, it runs through your fingers and leaves you standing there with nothing. Power cannot be tangible and if it ever becomes so, it will lose its own sense of definition."_

_-_

  
Of course Angelica is happy for her sister.

There's a strong mixture of emotions running through her blood, but underneath the tangled web, is happiness. Eliza is Angelica's world and Eliza's happiness is something that Angelica is more than willing to sacrifice herself for.

Sacrifice is an old friend to Angelica.

Keeping her eyes trained on the Minister, she listens as he says, "Do you promise to love and to cherish your husband as you would yourself, for the rest of your lives together?"

This is the part that Angelica knows will be the hardest to hear. Her dress feels asphyxiating against her chest, as if the material is a straightjacket, chaining her into her place behind Eliza.

"I do." Angelica cannot see Eliza's face but she can hear the smile in her sister's voice. The two simple words crash onto Angelica like a tidal wave, swelling and pounding.

"And do you, Alexander, promise to love and cherish your wife as you would yourself, for the rest of your lives together?"

Angelica can see Alexander's face; she's been watching him the entire ceremony. Watched every subtle expression, every flicker of his dark eyes.

And she now watches him take Eliza's hand in his and murmur I do.

Angelica, aware of her own pounding heart, is a forced observer as Alexander presses a kiss onto her sister's lips, his hands encircling her waist. Finally, it's over. To her incredulous surprise, no more waves of anger or sadness wash over Angelica. A calming breath helps steady the rest of her nerves. Ignoring Peggy's occasional glance over at her, Angelica believes that she has handled this all fairly well. The burning has at least stopped in her eyes and she feels as though her pulse is slowing.

As the couple turn to face the wedding guests who raise their hands together in applause, Angelica is certain that the worst is finally done. Soon, she'll be able to take the dress off and crawl into bed and sleep for a decade.

But why does Alexander have to look over his wife's shoulder at her, avert his eyes over towards her in a way that is both crippling and regretful all at once? The moment their eyes meet, Angelica knows with a sinking feeling that she will never be able to forget the look on his face. Time has stolen away the moment and no matter what Angelica may try to do to forget that it happened, it's etched in her mind.

  
A memory to be replayed over and over.

Surely the clock on the wall has slowed down, there is no possible way that such a brief look can last for so long.

All the emotions Angelica has suppressed threaten to rise with alarming quickness. As if the moment never even occurred, Alexander is looking into Eliza's eyes and his finger is tracing her soft pink cheek. Heat floods Angelica's face and the sound of the exuberant guests is a hollow echo, like an incessantly pounding drum.

As she follows the couple back down the aisle, alongside Peggy, maintaining her composure as she was taught to all her life, she wishes there is some cure that exists for the ache in her heart that refuses to leave her.

-

It's the happiest day of Eliza's life.

Dancing with her, Alexander has never looked more handsome and elated. The thin string of tension unties itself from Eliza's heart; Angelica's warnings were for naught and Eliza is relieved.

"He's an Icarus," Angelica had remarked, after Eliza had vividly described her first date with Alexander.

Eliza had been caught off guard and bewildered. "A what?"

"An Icarus bird. Remember the story of the bird that flew too close to the sun? Papa read that to us when we were little. The bird kept wanting to go higher and higher until—" at this moment, Angelica had snapped her fingers to fill in the rest of her sentence.

Eliza was unnerved and replied that she was unsure what Angelica meant by this. Angelica told her that Alexander, while a good man, could turn out to be like an Icarus. "He only recently got to such a position of government, thanks to Washington. Alexander got his wings and now he has to be careful of how high he flies."

Now as Eliza lets herself be swung around the dance floor with him, she sees nothing to be concerned about. Alexander has never been better; he's stronger, smarter and quicker than all his other contemporaries. Eliza wants to see him fly as high as he can, she refuses to be the person that puts chains on his wings.

-

"Peggy Schuyler."

Peggy recognises the voice before she sees him. Turning from her view of the dance floor, Thomas Jefferson is standing close. Too close, perhaps, but she doesn't mind. He towers over her but Peggy doesn't feel small.

Angelica doesn't like Thomas. She says so frequently. Peggy had read the articles about him, read about his climb to his political place. He's interesting, she thinks. Curious and odd and incredibly smart. Forming her own opinions is one of the few luxuries that Peggy can afford.

"I didn't know you'd be here," is all she says.

He smiles a fraction. Not a real one, not a genuine one. But enough to put up the pretence of care. "Eliza wants me to mend things between Hamilton and I."

Alexander cursing Thomas at any random time of day is not an uncommon event. Anyone would think that two men with equal interest to advance the country would be more likely to work together. Thomas and Alexander get along the same way nails on a chalkboard get along, the same way prey and predators get along.

Peggy always stands aside during the disputes. She does not want others to influence her perspectives of people. Which is why she says, "You both aren't as different as you may think."

Thomas's lips twist upwards ruefully. His eyes flickers on her's a moment. "How old are you, Miss Schuyler?"

"Twenty-two." Peggy lifts her chin slightly, attempting to assert herself. To be minimised as nothing more than a little girl is a nasty pill she must frequently swallow.

Thomas considers this visibly. Without diverting his gaze from her, he motions for a waiter to come closer. "Get this woman a drink, she deserves one."

-

Alexander didn't fall in love with Eliza just because of her political family or her wealth or her prestige.

It took one introduction and he knew that she was the person he would do everything for.

Had this been a few months prior, he would have believed Angelica to be the one in his arms at his wedding. She never showed an interest, rather she encouraged him to pursue Eliza. At first, Alexander had been disappointed by Angelica's lack of interest in him; perhaps it was all in his mind that sparks had been struck when Angelica first met him.

He'd stolen one glance at Angelica during the wedding and saw nothing in he eyes other than a dull, numbness. Alexander can not fathom why; if she did not want him, why should she ever react in such a wane manner?

Alexander looked across the crowd and caught sight of Angelica drinking a glass of champagne. Had her willing attitude to step back been a consequence? Alexander does not know what to make of her and the situation.

Consequences are empty words and air to Alexander. He has not had to deal with them in the past and he has no plans of doing so in the future. The future, Eliza, the government, the small world that he has come to know...

_It's all mine finally._

The wedding means more to Alexander than a mere matrimony. It is far larger than the chapel and the ring. It finally represents the official beginning of his new life. One where he will be satisfied and live out his days with the one girl that matters.

The faces in the crowd hide their curiosity about Alexander but he can sense it. They wonder who this random man is, who rose from ashes and poverty to be marrying one of the most eligible girls in the country. Alexander himself is not entirely sure how he reached this place and yet at the same time, he understands one truth that evens everything out.

"The people will only see what they are shown," Washington had said to him. Had it only been five years ago? It feels like a lifetime.

So Alexander smiles. He shakes the hands of the men and rains compliments down upon the crowd as if they truly do matter to him. The small blossom of pride in his chest flourishes as he walks about with Eliza's hand in his arm, thanking the guests for coming to the wedding.

And the people only see what they are shown; a couple that is destined for greatness.

-

Peggy's never been kissed before, never had a man push her against a wall and assert her as all his. His hands graze her waist, her thighs, her hair as he presses his hips against her's. Rolling waves of pleasure heat her skin as she fervently wills herself not to forget a single second of this. His lips are hot on the nape of her neck, and she can't stifle a sound in the back of her throat.

Angelica would kill her if she knew what Peggy was doing in the closet at her own sister's wedding.

He has the power; he has the intangible quality that she can never reach no matter how much she may try. She does try; she is checked at once and all she can do is try to convey somehow the desperate cry for attention that bubbles so deeply inside of herself.

_Peggy. Poor, desperate Peggy._

She's the money that slips through his fingers. A tangible creature, never meant to last.

-

The gaze of the crowd is warm on Angelica as she rises to her feet, glass in hand. She wills her hand not to tremble and exhales as slowly as she is capable of. At the wedding table, Alexander and Eliza lift their heads along with the remaining party, ready to listen to the bride's sister make a toast.

Angelica has rehearsed it a thousand times in her mind. Letting herself look at the table before her, she can't help but note the different expressions of the family. Eliza is rosy and jubilant, Peggy looks vaguely flustered and unkempt.

Alexander's expression can be read like a book. He's watching every move she makes, his gaze the strongest and most powerful out of everyone's. Angelica can only hope that she'll be able to keep him in the dark about her buried feelings until at least the wedding is over. Alexander is a smart man, it's one of the qualities that drew her to him. He will be able to figure her out soon enough.

"To my sister and her new husband." Angelica's voice is firm and stronger than she had planned. She runs her tongue across her dry lips and continues, "May you be happy, may you be satisfied."

Appropriate clapping follows this but Angelica does not hear it. All she can do is mutely stare at Alexander and Eliza. She wants nothing more than for them to satisfied and together but a sick feeling inside of herself lingers as she studies Alexander's face. He does not notice and leans forward to whisper something to Eliza.

They'll postpone the fact of it, they'll try to ignore it, they'll argue and be hurt by it. Angelica can see it already, she can almost hear her sister's eventual tearful phone calls.

All of this will never be enough for Alexander Hamilton.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your positive feedback on my first chapter! Here we go with a second! Love you all so much <3

Washington leaves for Virginia a few days after the wedding. Before he departs, he goes to Alexander and Eliza's house, his mind going through the various words he wants to share with Alexander. At the wedding, Washington saw a look in Alexander's eyes that he had not seen since Alexander first came to New York.

Alexander's eyes shone with a hunger that could not be controlled or satisfied.

Washington is a brave politician who looked his most carnal contemporaries in the eyes without a hesitation. Washington understands how difficult it was for Alexander to get to where is is today; he is beginning to understand what Alexander will do to stay there.

Washington could not leave Alexander in good conscience without saying something about it.

Eliza answers the door, fresh and bright as the early morning sky. "Washington, hello. How are you?"

"I am well, Mrs. Hamilton. Thank you." Washington smiles at her faintly.

Eliza says that he surely must be there for Alexander and Washington does not disagree. Eliza takes him inside and motions up the stairs. "He's in the study."

-

"You look guilty," is all Angelica absently says from behind her book.

Heat rushes into Peggy's face; she resists the urge to duck her head. Tucking her legs beneath her on the sofa, Peggy puts up a believable pretence of casualness. "What do you mean?"

Angelica, perched on the windowsill with her novel, lowers it a fraction. "You look like a sinner in church, Pegs."

Peggy let out a peal of nervous laughter that is so unnatural, she almost alarms herself. Quickly amending, she says, "I haven't done anything wrong. I just miss Eliza, is all."

Angelica's expression shifts. "I do too." And she wills the ache in her chest to fade as she continues, "Eliza is happy and we ought to be as well."

Casting aside her book, Angelica rises to her feet, any trace of sadness hidden beneath a mask she spent years learning how to create. "Let's go see where Mother is at. Unless," she adds lightly, "You'd rather me call someone for you to confess your sins to."

-

"Hamilton."

Alexander's hair hangs in his face as he distractedly looks up from his fervent writing. A smile breaks out on his lips as he sets his pen aside, reaching forward and shaking Washington's firm hand with his own ink-covered one.

"How's marriage suiting you so far?"

"It's only been two days," Alexander replies, amused. Suddenly conscious of his disarrayed study, he makes an effort of pushing the papers on his desk around. "Are you headed back to Virginia?"

"I am." Washington pauses, looking at the young and impressionable man seated before him. "Hamilton, before I go, there is something I want to address."

"Of course."

He watches Alexander's face, trying to get a summation of how to proceed. A thousand words crowd his mind, a thousand possibilities for him to say. A lengthy speech is briefly considered but Washington knows better than to try to lecture Alexander Hamilton. To give Alexander something to remember, something short to ponder on in any moment in his twisting road ahead...that is what Washington deems best.

"Hamilton, please let this" —Washington gestures around the room, a vivid parallel for the world Alexander has created— "be enough." Washington doesn't pause to get a reaction or a response. He can't; he knows that if he does, he will want to say more and he can't have that happen. Tilting his head, he turns and leaves, aware of Alexander's eyes thoughtfully watching him.

Washington can only hope his words will be taken to heart by Alexander. Alexander is never satisfied by his work, his life, his writing...in that way, Washington understands him. But Washington has something Alexander lacks; perspective. The ability to stop and be satisfied by how far he's come.

There remains is a great divide between Alexander and the rest of the world and anyone who tries to cross it is alienated.

Eliza is waiting at the bottom of the stairwell, expectantly raising her face to his as he descends. Pleasant formalities are exchanged as he is lead to the door. It's hesitation that brings Washington's feet to a stop just before stepping outside. Turning around, he sees Eliza in the doorway. With the early sunlight glowing on her face, she looks enthral and innocent. Unaware of what she is to be faced with. Washington does not want to think about what she may be facing if Alexander does not pace himself.

He reaches out and takes Eliza's hand, hiding his concern behind a layer of kindness. "Best of luck to you, dear girl."

Her smile is warm. "Thank you."

-

  
Peggy shouldn't be talking to Thomas.

That doesn't mean that she isn't.

His finger absently traces her hair as she tucks herself under his arm. Inhaling slowly, she breathes in his fresh, crisp scent. Leaning forward, she takes a glance at the newspaper in his hand. Headlines splash the page colourfully with vivid phrases meant to inspire curiosity. Peggy raises her eyes to meet Thomas'.

"What do you think?" he wants to know.

"Of?"

"The presidential news."

Peggy pauses before replying, "I'm curious about who will be the final candidates."

Thomas nods his head slightly before turning another page of the newspaper. Then, very calmly and very mildly, he comments, "Washington wants me to run this year."

Peggy is properly stunned. Of course Thomas would be a suitable candidate; he's quick, intelligent, authoritative. It's not a stretch for her to imagine him in a position of power higher than the one he currently is in.

"I can already see you there," is all Peggy says.

-

Angelica knows Washington. He's always been an aspect of her life, in one way or another. As long as he is in Alexander's life, he by extension, in her life as well.

Perhaps because of Peggy's absence lately or her own gnawing loneliness, but Angelica remembers his offer to show her his art collection at his house in Virginia.

Which is why, two weeks following the wedding, when there is nothing left to do other than stare out the window and dwell on what is not to be, Angelica takes a train to Virginia.

It isn't a long journey; she's there in a matter of hours. Washington is pleased to see her; his smile warms her heart for a moment. Loneliness is a bitter poison and it's been infecting her for too long.

There's a comfort to his company; a little older, a little wiser. As he shows her the wide arrange of paintings, she finds herself to be talking and him to be a tranquil listener.

"Alexander took me to a museum once." Angelica studies the painting before her, the brush strokes and colours that pool onto the canvas. "The Metropolitan Museum. It was beautiful."

"You and Alexander seem very close."

"We are. Or were. I'm afraid I don't know where we stand now." Voicing this aloud is far more painful than internalising it. Quickly she moves towards the next picture, distracting herself with the young woman in it. The painted girl is staring out at the ocean, her dress swirling around her.

She looks free.

Everything Angelica wishes to be.

"Alexander has always liked you, Ms. Schuyler. I see no reason why that would change."

Angelica swallows, her jaw feeling a bit too tight. "I know he does. I think it's more a matter of conscience now."

"How so?"

Angelica's lips are moving and she's saying words but her mind is far, far away. "I believe that for Eliza's sake, separation from my company would be wisest."

Silence hums in the air; the only sound is her steady breathing. No one else knew of Alexander and Angelica's initial attraction. It was always Alexander and Eliza. The two inseparable identities that belong together. Angelica does not fit into their equation.

Angelica does not know whether to be bitter or hurt. She brought this upon herself, cast her own feelings to the side for her sister's happiness. To wish for Alexander to be only Angelica's is selfish and she resents herself for every thought that desperately fills her mind with reminders that he should be with her not Eliza.

"This may be difficult for you to realise right now, but sometimes the people we love the most are not the people we are meant to be with."

Washington's tone is kind but firm. Enough to sink into Angelica's mind. Exhaling deeply to prevent the ache in her throat from growing, she stores his words away into her mind.

When she needs them, and she will, they'll be there. A clear and vivid reminder. To have someone else that understands is enough for Angelica.

Washington suddenly says, "We should take a walk, it's a beautiful day out."

Stepping outside into the fresh air, Angelica takes off her shoes, following Washington through his wide grounds with the grass beneath her feet. It's peaceful, far away from the rush of the city, far away from Alexander and the world that he has created.

For the first time in months, Angelica realises that some sunlight is breaking through the clouds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in updating! I was pretty sick and then I was too busy to write a word. But here is a new update! Thanks for reading! :)

Angelica's alleviation does not last for long.

Returning to the city after her pleasant and far too brief of a visit to Virginia, she finds herself captured back into the bubble of solidarity.

Being invited to go to an orchestral concert with Eliza and Alexander does not help.

If only she knew where Peggy kept clandestinely escaping as of late. Angelica wonders if wherever Peggy has been going, she should be going as well.

-

It can't be any later than five in the morning but Alexander is listlessly awake already.

He asks, "What if I painted the entire house a new colour?"

"Alexander, please go back to sleep."

"I just think we could use some more colour than just white walls everywhere. You'd think we lived in a prison or something."

Eliza, resigned to the fact that she will never be able to sleep as long as he's awake, opens her eyes. The bluish light of early morning and the warmth of his body next to her is peaceful. Moving across the sheets to be closer to him, she rests her head against his chest. "If we do paint, we have to agree on the colour. Or I'll move away," she drowsily remarks.

His hand is gentle on her hair, absentmindedly untangling the knots in her thick, raven black locks. "If we do agree though..."

"...then we can," Eliza relents. To create their own home, a place of refuge and comfort, all their own, does appeal to her.

There's a long pause that stretches into minutes. Eliza no sooner closes her eyes again, when Alexander says, "What do you think of having kids?"

"Not just this second," Eliza groans slightly under her breath, but she considers it for a fleeting second. The idea of young children running about the house does seem like it would be a breath of fresh air. Then Eliza considers how the young children have to come into the world. She'd seen her mother in labour with Peggy and it was reminiscent of a horror movie. "Waiting for a little bit might be a better idea," she quickly amends.

Alexander laughs quietly and kisses the top of her head. With his lips pressed against her soft skin, he begins to feel the empty gaping hole inside of himself mend. Not right away, not all at once. But the feeling he has carried with him his entire life, one of desperation and pain, has finally begun to be filled by Eliza's love.

"Eliza."

"Yes?"

His hesitation dissipates with her gentle reply. "I think for the first time in my life, I'm happy."

Her fingers entangle with his. "Me too."

-

"Work."

Angelica lifts her head sharply as her employer, Mr. Jack Louis, tosses a vibrant blue plastic folder onto her desk. An impertinent glare from him rouses her out of her thoughts.

"You took leave for family obligations for two weeks. Unless you want me to just fire you so you can stare into the middle distance as long as you want, it's time for you to work."

Angelica wants to snap at him but it's a pointless endeavour. Flicking open the folder, she sees names. Lists. She recognises most of them at first glance; all powerful, all influential. Noticing Thomas Jeffersons name, she flips past his page quicker than the others. Her fingers stop on the one person's page that she doesn't recognise.

"Aaron Burr?" She lifts an eyebrow.

"He's no one special but on the way to everywhere special." He takes note of her interest.

Angelica shuts the folder. "Why should I care about these people?"

"It's the only copy of an insider, unsourced leak on the possible presidential candidates this coming election." Louis waits for a reaction.

He gets one. Her ember of intrigue has sparked into a wildfire. Insider, unsourced leak on the men and women that desire to campaign? "So if we're the only newspaper with this, we have the power play?"

Louis leans over her desk slightly, an eager look on his face. "We have the power. One nasty headline about them before they announce their campaign and they're screwed."

Angelica lives for this; the ability to chip away at the seemingly impenetrable monument of the government. If she can dig her pick in just the right spot, she can send the nasty people tumbling down and lift up the good candidates that deserve the position. Looking back down at the list, she notices something. "Why isn't Alexander Hamilton on here? He was pretty vocal about wanting to run."

"I don't think he realises how high the stakes are. If he wants to run, he has to make that choice and fast."

-

_"Are you out of your mind, Peggy? Fraternising with a man you know I despise?"_

That's how Peggy imagines it, if Angelica is in an exceptional mood. Letting the water in the bath swirl around herself as she sinks back into it, Peggy cannot imagine a positive outcome of events.

At first, a clandestine affair was enticing. Within two weeks, it was trying on Peggy's nerves. If only Angelica didn't hate him _quite_ so much. The more time Peggy spends with him, the more she sees that Angelica's claims against him hold little meaning.

Stepping out of the bath and wrapping a towel around herself, Peggy lightly treads into the living room, locking eyes with a man that is most certainly not Thomas.

"Oh!"

Peggy pulls the towel closer against her chest, her wet hair dripping around herself and hitting the carpet. "Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"

"Mr. Jefferson gave me a key to get his laptop. He did not mention he had other people here." The man diverts his eyes to the floor quickly. "I work for him."

"Oh," is all Peggy can say. She hesitates for a split second before sharply adding, "For gods sake, you don't have to linger. Get what you need and leave."

She takes no sooner than a few strides back to the reclusive comfort of Thomas' bedroom when she abruptly turns to face the man. "Before you leave, what's your name?"

"Call me Lafayette."

-

"Who the hell invited him?" Alexander hisses to Eliza as they walk up the marble stairs of the orchestra hall. Flicking a gaze over her shoulder, she sees Thomas striding languidly up behind them.

"No one did, he just happened to come tonight." Feeling his arm stiffen under her hand, she continues, "Calm down, you two are childish."

Alexander replies, "He's going to come to over to us and pretend to be interested in how we're doing."

"Maybe so but there is no reason not to be civil towards him." Glancing at her husband's face, Eliza whispers, "Behave."

"I always behave, darling."

"Really." Her sarcasm is tangible. Looking back over her shoulder, she murmurs, "Alright, pretend to get a phone call, he's coming towards us."

-

"Angelica, is that you?"

Angelica feels a hand touch her arm; spinning around, she sees her fellow coworker Megan. It's odd to see fellow coworkers at places other than work. Megan's expressive eyes are sparkling with excitement and Angelica forgets any of the slight awkwardness. "Hey, Megs."

Megan looking excited only means one thing; news that is saturated with scandal. The last time Angelica saw Megan's eyes dance was when it was discovered that one of the members of Congress had a secret wife.

"We have to talk," is all Megan says. Taking Angelica's hand and leading her amid the crowd of people in obnoxious dresses and even more obnoxious cologne, the cool bathroom air is welcome relief. It's entirely empty but Megan whispers.

"Check these out." Megan produces a thick file from her purse. Angelica doesn't even question how she managed to shove it in there. Eagerly opening it, she's met with a series of photographs of two people by a window kissing, the photos clearly taken by the paparazzi.

They're a bit blurry; looking closer, Angelica comments, "That looks like Jefferson."

"And...?"

Angelica holds the picture closer towards the fluorescent light. The face, the hair...its unmistakable. "That's my sister."

-

There are many ways to approach this, Angelica knows this.

Part of her is nauseated, another part of her is tempted to leave the concert hall right then and go set Peggy straight.

Then there is that part of her that knows deep down, she can use this information.

Listening to that voice in her head is why she sits down next to Thomas when the concert begins. He glances over at her and says nothing. A thousand thoughts simmer on the tip of her tongue. Containing herself is a trial in more ways than one. Out of the corner of her eye, Eliza whispers something to Alexander with a smile and he gives his wife a look that can only be described as utter infatuation.

Angelica waits for the majority of the program before she says in a voice that only Thomas can hear, "How long have you been with my sister?"

It's as if he's been waiting for her to say this. His lips twitch upward. "Since the wedding. Why? Jealous?"

"Please," Angelica replies in disgust, "You are the human form of chlamydia."

"Harsh."

"I'm containing myself. You don't know what my version of 'harsh' is." Angelica shifts in her seat as the music swells.  _Dance Of The Knights_ by Prokofiev. Fitting.

Thomas' voice is warm and closer to her than she anticipates. His tone is far more impassive than she desires for it to be. "What do you want, Angelica Schuyler?"

Angelica does not have to consider this. "I want to expose the truth."

Thomas seems to understand this; his silence is his approval. "Look around, Angelica. What do you see?"

The concert hall is filled with all the varying members of Congress and every other person who wants to go somewhere higher. The men and women that believe they are young gods. "I see hunger."

"Good. This room is a shark tank. Survival of the fittest. I've been in this world a significantly longer time than you have. If you want to expose these people, you're going to have to expect to get eaten. Constantly. It's about what you do afterwards."

Something akin to adrenaline courses through her blood, hot and fast. He's telling her something between the lines. Eyes trained on the orchestra that is alive with the intensity of the music, Angelica says, "I won't expose to the press your relationship with Peggy. Only if you do me a favour."

He considers this. "What favour?"

Angelica forms the words in her mind before articulately speaking. "I want insider information. Constantly. I want to know every move that person in this room is making. I want to know the facts. And if I discover that you have been hiding something from me, I am sure that your potential voters will be stunned to hear that you've been hiding a relationship with Phillip Schuyler's youngest daughter who also happens to be Alexander Hamilton's sister in law."

Thomas' jaw tightens a fraction; he is in a corner. Angelica has the upper hand. She watches the orchestra with the faintest smirk on her face. Thomas pauses before saying, "Fine. Whatever you want to know. Just be aware that the moment you get into this, there is no exit door."

"Believe me," Angelica says in a tone that only shows a fraction of her burning satisfaction, "I'll be the one that locks the exit door myself."

The audience around them stands on their feet to applaud. There are only two people sitting in that crowd, the two people who have just built both of their futures around each other's so tightly interlocking that no one can unlock it.

Thomas leans closer and his whisper stands out in the noise. "Welcome to the shark tank, Angelica Schuyler."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to contact me at my tumblr page @yay4hamlet!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll update with a new chapter weekly. Comments and kudos are appreciated <3 Feel free to talk to me on my tumblr yay4hamlet.tumblr.com!


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